


the end of an era

by SolivagantStories



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dead Toby Smith | Tubbo, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Niki is angry, Puffy just wants her son to not be insane, Ranboo is sad and scared, Tommy is locked up bro, i speedran this fic, jack is upset, no beta we die like Tubbo on Dream’s blade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolivagantStories/pseuds/SolivagantStories
Summary: The server was quiet. It felt like every member of the smp was holding their breath, like the sky itself was frozen still. The sun started to set but it felt wrong, like time shouldn’t exist.Tommy and Tubbo had said their goodbyes. It felt wrong./-/-/Or, Tubbo dies by Dream’s hand and Tommy is locked up, just like Dream said he would be. The server is finally quiet.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 323





	the end of an era

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing for Renewal but I watched the stream today and my brain just wouldn’t shut up. So here y’all go, I speedran this.

The server was quiet. It felt like every member of the smp was holding their breath, like the sky itself was frozen still. The sun started to set but it felt wrong, like time shouldn’t exist. 

Tommy and Tubbo had said their goodbyes. It felt wrong. 

/-/-/ 

Niki was angry. 

She was most days, lately. It was a simmering anger, one built from other things. She was angry at the world, at Wilbur. At L’Manberg. 

But mostly importantly, she was angry at Tommy. 

He was the issue, after all. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. He was a liar, a parasite. He made stupid speeches about discs and tried to rally them when it was useless and did more harm than good. 

L’Manberg would still be around if he was never there. 

(—he was a founder, L’Manberg wouldn’t have existed without him—) 

If he’d just never aggravated Dream, if he’d never sought after those stupid discs, there would’ve been peace. 

(—Dream might have focused on something else, it might have been worse—) 

Niki growled under her breath as she paced. The husk of what once was L’Manberg was in eyeshot and she couldn’t stop herself from being drawn to it. 

She hated looking at it, but she also loved it. 

The server was so quiet. Niki was angry. 

Tommy had the audacity to go and never come back before she could have her revenge. The sun was setting, and he hadn’t come back. 

All of her frustration towards him wouldn’t have anywhere to go. She wanted him dead, but how could she kill him if Dream had him? If Dream himself had killed him? 

(—you could join me, anarchy is always an option—) 

Niki froze. 

Even without Tommy, she still had purpose. She did. It felt hollow, but it was there. She had something to do. 

She wasn’t going to let another government rise. She wasn’t going to let another person die or get hurt. 

(Not like Wilbur.) 

/-/-/ 

Ranboo felt aimless. 

He curled up in his comfort room, a voice threatening to whisper in his ear. He was safe, though. He had to be. 

This wasn’t the panic room and he wasn’t panicking. This was for comfort. 

(...Right?...) 

His dog huffed from in his lap and Ranboo ran a hand over its fur absentmindedly. The routine was grounding but he still couldn’t get Tommy out of his head. 

Couldn’t get Tubbo out of his head. 

They were dead. They must be. All because of some stupid discs. 

Ranboo could admit that he was bitter. That he hated how attached Tommy was to those discs. Hated how Tubbo went along with it. 

(—Tubbo had his own plans, though, right? He couldn’t remember—) 

Ranboo pulled his dog up closer to his chest, and it huffed softly. It was calm, though. Almost as if it knew how desperate he was for comfort. 

Phil and Techno were in their house, and he wasn’t allowed in. At least, he didn’t think so. They were so closed off, even more so since this morning. 

(—since Tommy and Tubbo had come by to say their last goodbyes—) 

Ranboo couldn’t forget the way Tubbo had called him the minutes man. How Tommy had talked about his exile. They’d seemed so sincere. They’d been his friends. 

(—Right?—) 

He didn’t want them to become more voices in his head. He didn’t want to remember them as old friends. 

If he’d remember them at all. 

Ranboo grabbed his book off of the floor, quill in his hand like it’d always been there. Overcome with a sudden fear he scratched away at the pages with whatever first came to mind. 

He—

He needed to remember them— 

He needed—

‘Tommy and Tubbo are my friends. Were. They left to fight Dream. They haven’t come back. I’m scared. Please. Please I want them to come back. Tommy helped me. Tubbo was fun to be around. I need them. I don’t want them to die too.

Please. Why can’t I remember? What were Tubbo’s last words to me? What were they? They were about me being a good minutes man, right? Yes. Now please remember. 

Please.’ 

The quill stopped and Ranboo snapped the book shut, allowing it to drop to the floor. 

He didn’t want to forget them. 

He wanted his friends. He wanted them to come back. 

Ranboo hugged his dog close, and cried. 

/-/-/

Jack stared at the nukes, hollow. 

What was he supposed to do now? He was supposed to kill Tommy. He was supposed to hang out with Tubbo. 

He’d liked Tubbo. Despite being close to Tommy, he’d been nice. 

Kind. 

Jack hadn’t known what that was like, before Tubbo. He was always alone, or a joke. Always someone to ignore or throw aside. 

Even when he’d died, and come back, no one had cared. Hardly anyone even knew he’d died. 

(—and he could still feel how it felt to be in the void, could still feel the all encompassing fear of the knowledge that he was dead—) 

Tommy was gone. 

He wasn’t going to get to kill him. 

Tommy wasn’t supposed to disappear with Tubbo. He wasn’t supposed to leave, to follow his discs again. 

Tubbo had left with a sorrowful smile and an apology. He’d hardly said a thing as he’d abandoned Jack to their makeshift country, or whatever it was. To their nukes and paranoia. He’d left Jack behind as if it didn’t matter. 

Tommy was more important than him after all. His silly chase after some discs was more important than Jack. 

Than Tubbo’s own life. 

That was fine. It was fine. 

It was. 

Jack could feel his eyes start to burn and he hurried away from the nukes, running into his house like his life depended on it. 

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. 

He’d regroup with Niki. They’d be fine. 

Deep down he knew Niki wouldn’t care about him, now that their mission was pointless. 

Jack bit his lip and pushed forward anyway. 

/-/-/ 

Puffy knew that her son, her little duckling, was bad. 

Maybe deep down she’d always known. He liked to have control a bit too much, he pushed people away. 

But he was the boy who’d followed her around, all those years ago. The kid who’d latched onto her like a lifeline. 

And now that ‘kid’ had most likely killed two children. 

She didn’t hate Tommy. She didn’t hate Tubbo. 

Tommy was misguided. He’d made mistakes, a ton of mistakes, but he was just a kid. He deserved a family that loved him and a stable home. He deserved to be guided and helped when he made a mistake. 

(—Niki hated him, hated a literal child. Niki was so angry at the world that she blamed everything on a traumatized kid—) 

Puffy guided Foolish to a bench, heart heavy. He sat next to her, dirty from farming. Confused. 

She shouldn’t have brought him here. She shouldn’t have. 

But...

She needed to know that at least one of her kids wasn’t a crazy maniac. That she wasn’t a horrible parent. 

Dream was crazy, she knew that. But it didn’t make it hurt any less that she’d disowned him. It didn’t make his dismissal of her hurt any less. 

Puffy held Foolish’s hand and smiled bitterly. 

She still had a son, and she’d do better this time. 

/-/-/

Tommy cried. 

He wailed and scratched at the walls, chest aching and voice cracking. He ran at the only opening he could find, trying to escape. He tried to call for Dream, tried to beg him to let him out and to fight him. 

But what would that even do? 

Tubbo was dead. Run through by Dream’s blade. And now he was here, destined to be trapped forever. 

He wondered if anyone cared, if anyone knew. 

Probably not. His goodbyes hadn’t been the best, after all. He’d never been good at goodbyes. 


End file.
